


Discordant Refrain

by whimsical whispers (Kiyoko_Michi)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, deranged spider maul is best maul, implied happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyoko_Michi/pseuds/whimsical%20whispers
Summary: Savage dies on Mandalore having failed his only remaining brother. He wakes up in the Nightbrothers village years earlier. It’s a second chance he doesn’t deserve, and this time Savage won’t let anything hurt his brothers. The rest of the galaxy can burn.He’s not the only one with memories of the future, and Obi-Wan Kenobi isn’t so willing to ignore the greater galaxy…
Relationships: Feral & Darth Maul & Savage Opress
Comments: 30
Kudos: 67





	1. Waking Up

Savage dies with Maul by his side and two holes burned through his chest. He dies a failure. Useless and grieving and staring into his brother’s face, hoping against hope that Maul, at least, is strong enough to survive.

He’d hoped for a better death but knows he deserves worse. Maul stays by his side until the end, and he’s relieved that it’s over. He can finally rest.

* * *

He wakes screaming.

Pain echoes through him, around him, but it’s wrong. Everything is _wrong_ , and the Force presses down on him, overwhelming and undeniable. His head burns like it’s about to explode, and even that isn’t right. He was stabbed through the chest. He doesn’t have enough air to breathe, so it can’t be him screaming. Can’t be his ruined hearts he feels pounding.

Movement. A door slamming open.

Savage looks up, and he sees a heartbreakingly familiar figure. Everything else stops.

“Feral,” Savage whispers like a prayer.

Feral is breathing hard, eyes wide and worried, and Savage drinks in the sight of him. His mind feels like it’s full of static, and he can’t think. Feral scans the room before focusing on Savage.

“Brother, what’s wrong?”

Savage can only shake his hand mutely. He doesn’t resist as Feral sits besides him and pulls him close. He nestles Savage against him until they’re pressed close like when Savage was young. One hand gently cradles Savage’s head, stroking along the root of his horns. He’d forgotten the ways Feral comforted him. How free he'd been with touch and reassurance. Every memory of his brother had been poisoned by what he'd done, so Savage had boxed those moments up with all the rest and tried his damnedest to forget.

Savage doesn’t reach back. Keeps his hands knotted together in his lap and digs his claws into his own skin so there’s no chance they’ll reach for his brother. He allows himself to lean into the touch. He presses close, _closer_ until he can feel every breath and gentle pulses of Feral’s hearts.

“I’m sorry,” he says, choking on the words. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t- I _killed_ -”

He can’t finish. Can’t bear to think of that day. The Sisters had stolen his mind, but they hadn’t been kind enough to dull the memories. He remembers how the world had gone green. The way the Sister’s orders echoed in his head, and disobedience wasn’t an option. He remembers wrapping his hand around Feral’s neck and squeezing until it shattered.

He’d come back to himself by inches in the weeks, months afterward. The crushing realization of what he’d done settled over him, unforgettable and unforgivable. But there’d been Maul and the war, and Savage had desperately sought out any mission or distraction to keep himself from dwelling. He’d known that if he stopped to grieve, he’d never get back up again.

Except Feral is here. Holding him and whispering quiet, comforting words that Savage doesn’t deserve. Savage can’t stop shaking, and he’s surprised to realize that his face is wet with tears. He hasn’t cried in years, but now he can’t stop. Right now, he can’t bear to be strong.

“It’s alright, brother. I’m here,” Feral says.

He shifts on the bed, and for one heartstopping moment Savage thinks he’s pulling away.

“Stay,” he says. Begs, even, and he can’t muster up any shame over it. Not when it means Feral obeys. His brother curls tighter around him, and Savage lets himself be comforted.

He died. He’s dead, and this is a kinder afterlife than he deserves.

* * *

Savage wakes a second time, and it’s gentler than the first. There’s arms around him and a warm weight against his side, but that’s not right. People don’t touch him anymore. Especially not like this.

He opens his eyes, terrified of what he will—or won’t—see, but Feral is still curled around him. Afraid to move, barely daring to breath, Savage stares at him. He wants to memorize how Feral looks like this, peaceful and alive. It physically hurts to look at him, but Savage can’t look away.

The Force feels strange as it curls around him. Different. Heavy. Savage reaches into it, curious, but it doesn’t help him understand. He’s in his old sleeping room on Dathomir, but he hasn’t stepped foot here since before everything began. His brother is here, but Feral is long dead.

So is he, now.

He died. Stabbed through both hearts, and by then dying was a relief. Except… Maul. His remaining brother, made of sharp edges and carefully honed hatred. Who’d held his hand at the end and grieved for him.

He’d left Maul alone to face that creature. Darth Sidious. That old, withered man who’d stolen Maul when he was a child. Who had still, years later, put that scared look on Maul’s face. Savage had thought that, together, he and Maul could defeat the Sith Master. He’d been wrong.

Despite everything, he still hadn’t been enough.

Savage brushes a hand against Feral’s forehead and traces the familiar pattern of his horns. He doesn’t know what this means. Illusion or dream or something else. It feels real. Savage can’t decide if that is a blessing or a curse.

He’s going to ruin it. He’s still- He’s _him_ , monster and murderer. He isn’t made for gentleness. Not anymore.

He’s still weak, so he presses a careful kiss to Feral’s forehead before pulling himself free. 

He’s not sure what he means to do. Pick a direction and keep walking, probably. He doesn’t get far. As he leaves their home, the sight of the village almost sends him to his knees.

He hadn’t let himself think about before. Not Feral. Not Dathomir or the Nightbrothers. The festivals and hunts and comfort of being surrounded by his own people. The trees are blossoming, and the air is weighed down with its familiar, sweet scent. Smoke rises from where someone is tending the central firepit, and he can sense the faint sparks of life as the village slowly wakes.

It’s home. His home, and he hasn’t let himself miss it. Except now he’s been thrown back into those memories, and it aches, deep and wrenching in his chest. He makes it to a shadowed alcove before collapsing against a wall. He stays there, mind blessedly blank.

He feels when Feral wakes. His Force presence shifts before flaring in panic. Savage stays where he is. It isn’t long before Feral runs out of the house. His face breaks open in relief when he sees Savage. He approaches slowly, as if he’s afraid of startling Savage away.

It’s strange the different ways fear can feel. He’s used to people being afraid of him. To the blind terror of strangers when he attacks. Even Maul only ever got angry when they were in danger. The only thing he'd been afraid of was Sidious, and even that was only at the end.

Feral is just... worried about him. He's afraid that Savage might get hurt, and Savage doesn't know how to deal with that kind of concern anymore.

Savage stays where he is. The sun is starting to rise, and he’d forgotten how it looked on Dathomir. The vibrant reds and yellows and hazy streaks across the sky.

Feral had always loved the sunrise.

“Savage? Are you alright?” Feral asks.

He… doesn’t know. His head is clearer than it’s been since the Sister’s ritual. There’s no lingering green fog. No tendrils of Darkness with its hooks sunk deep into his mind. It’s only him left, and he feels empty.

He doesn’t say anything.

Feral sits by his side and leans against him. His weight feels like a brand, but Savage doesn’t pull away.

* * *

Days pass before he accepts it isn’t a dream. There's too many familiar details, and Savage remembers things that happen. He watches as Wraith breaks his arm on a hunt and Brother Viscus brings back a new Little from the Sisters. There's another Claiming--a normal one, not like _her_ \--and Savage knows which Brother will be chosen before he's taken away only to return weeks later, shaken and hurt.

Savage goes through the motions of being a Nightbrother. That part is easy. He’d grown up to the rhythm of village life, and he remembers how it goes. Repairs and hunting and meals. Watching over the Littles and helping the Elders.

Feral doesn’t leave his side, and Savage…

He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t bear letting Feral out of sight, but he doesn't know how to talk to his brother either. Even greetings and cheap pleasantries stick in his throat, and he flinches away every time Feral touches him.

He’d forgotten that. How often they’d touched each other. Nudging and wrestling and leaning against each other. By the second day, Feral stops reaching out, and Savage doesn’t have the right to miss it.

At night, he can’t escape the nightmares. Sometimes they’re about Feral. He knows how Feral’s neck feels as the bones give way under his fingers. How, even while Savage kills him, his brother wouldn’t fight back. He’d trusted Savage to stop, at the beginning. Then that trust had given way to terror, and Savage hadn’t cared.

Sometimes he dreams of the others he’s killed. The villages. Children. Maul had wanted everyone dead, and it had been so, so easy to follow his orders. To fall back into the Darkness and let his rage take over. He dreams of blood on his hands. Corpses crushed underfoot. Sometimes, there is only endless killing. Sometimes, the corpses drag him down.

Sometimes, he sees himself ripping Feral apart with his bare hands. Killing him a dozen different ways, and he can’t stop.

When he wakes, choking on screams, Feral is always there. In the dark, he isn’t strong enough to push his brother away. He’d turned his hands into weapons, so he doesn’t let himself reach out. But he lets himself be held and comforted like he’s still a child, and he’s too selfish to push Feral away.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve having Feral back or this strange second chance, with all his worst mistakes undone.

So he dreams at night and he drifts through the days. Feral shadows him everywhere, increasingly worried, and Savage knows he will never tell him.

The Nightsisters will come soon enough. Ventress. Savage refuses to let everything happen again. He won't let Ventress or any other Nightsister touch his brother. He might not deserve this second chance, but he's selfish enough to take it and stop what happened last time. He would burn down the galaxy if it meant keeping Feral safe.

For now, he’ll start with the Sisters.


	2. Brothers

Something is wrong with his brother, and Feral has no idea what’s happening.

It’s been weeks now. Weeks since Savage started waking up screaming and flinching away from him. Since he’s been keeping his mental walls up so high Feral can hardly feel him at all, when before the shape of Savage’s mind had been almost as familiar as his own. Savage won’t answer any of Feral’s questions. He barely talks at all. Then he disappears for days and comes back with a ship, and Feral just-

He doesn’t know what to do.

His own emotions are so tangled he feels sick. He’s terrified for his brother and these inexplicable changes. For the unbearable pain and grief Savage projects at night, when he lets his guard down. Something hurt his brother. Made him angry and afraid, and Feral has no idea what happened.

Yet, that first night on the ship, Feral wept with relief. For years, he’s dreamt about taking his brother and running away from Dathomir. Savage will never be Chosen by a Nightsister, to be hurt or bred or killed. For that, at least, he is grateful.

The second night, Feral wakes to find Savage’s bunk empty. A nightmare? Or maybe Savage hadn’t fallen asleep at all. He senses his brother at the front of the ship, and his Force signature is all jagged edges and dark emotions. Feral wraps a blanket around himself and goes to join him.

Savage barely looks up when Feral enters the small cockpit. He’s sitting in the captain’s chair, staring out at the stars spinning past them. Feral isn’t used to the beautiful, terrifying sight of moving through galaxies, but Savage barely seems to notice the view. He’s caught in his own head again.

The chair is too small for them both, but Feral shifts around until they fit. He wraps the blanket around them both and curls against his brother. Savage keeps his hands balled in his lap instead of reaching back, but he leans into Feral’s touch. 

“You’re hurting, and I don’t know how to help you,” Feral whispers.

Savage remains still in his arms.

“Just stay.”

So he does.

* * *

They find a planet; a peaceful, forested thing, warm and humid and so very different from Dathomir. They build themselves a small home, and Feral loves it fiercely for being safe and theirs. He misses the village and other Nightbrothers, but being free of the Sisters is worth it.

Their home is barely finished when Savage leaves again. He doesn’t say why or where. Just that there’s something important he has to find, and nothing Feral says convinces him to take him too. Then he’s truly alone for the first time in his life.

He doesn’t handle it well. Not as the hours stretch into days. One week, then two, until finally, finally he hears the ship returning.

Feral meets the ship on the nearby clearing as it lands. He paces anxiously as he waits for the door to open. Finally, Savage emerges.

“Brother!”

Feral starts to run forward but hesitates. There’s someone else behind Savage. A stranger hiding in the shadows. Savage coaxes him forward, and Feral sees red skin, black markings, and a ring of long, unkempt horns.

He’s a… Nightbrother? Feral frowns, staring at him. Those are definitely Nightbrother tattoos, so he must be from Dathomir. The stranger doesn’t look much older than them though, so where did he come from? How did Savage find him?

As the Nightbrother comes further out the ship, Feral realizes that the strange contraption behind him are his legs.

On Dathomir, their only prosthetics were whatever they could construct with their own hands. He’s never seen prosthetics that move before, let alone something this intricate. The stranger has a strange metal appendage with six thin legs that carry him forward in a fluid, almost mesmerizing motion.

He’s also painfully thin and dirty, and he only looks worse as he steps into the light. The stranger is muttering to himself as his eyes dart wildly around the clearing. He focuses briefly on Feral and cocks his head before dismissing him entirely.

When Savage looks up, he feels… strange. Nervous and happy and grieving, and the odd mix gives Feral a headache.

“This is Maul. Our older brother,” Savage says.

Feral freezes.

“Our- wait, what?”

He knows the stories. The Offworlder. The stolen child, their lost brother. The Nightbrothers remember what was taken from them.

Now that Feral looks closer, he recognizes the tattoos. He has their Clan markings, bold and unmistakable. And also impossible. Nobody knows what happened to the stolen child. There is absolutely no way Savage could’ve learned where he was. Savage only left a few weeks ago, and before that Feral was always by his side.

He just… he doesn’t understand. Nothing has made sense since that first night when Savage woke screaming, and it’s only getting worse.

It takes Savage a while to coax Maul away from the ship. Longer to get him near their house. He devours some food before slipping away, escaping from both him and Savage. Feral expects Savage to run after him, but his brother just sighs and sits heavily at the table.

“I won’t make this another prison for him. He’ll return if he wishes.”

Feral nods and resolves to set out food and supplies for their brother. He can sense Maul at the very edges of his range, pacing around. He hasn’t left, though he doesn’t seem interested in coming closer anytime soon.

“Don’t go after him alone. He’s been badly hurt, and he’s dangerous, Feral. Even to us,” Savage says.

Feral nods. In the back of his mind, he tracks Maul’s progress through the forest, and he focuses most of his attention on welcoming Savage back.

* * *

Maul is…

Strange.

Being around him gives Feral a headache. Maul just feels so _much_. Terror and satisfaction and this intense, rolling fury that is always, always present.

He takes the offerings Feral leaves for him and watches them from the forest, but he never comes closer. Feral doesn’t say anything when he feels Maul nearby. If Maul wants space and privacy, Feral will give it to him. They have time. And… he thinks Maul is starting to settle, at least a bit. His sharp edges aren’t quite so jagged, and that strange feeling of wrongness is smoothing out.

Sometimes, Maul seems to disappear from his senses. Feral is pretty sure it’s intentional; a way for Maul to hide, even through the Force. So he’s not particularly concerned when he doesn’t sense Maul that morning.

Savage is out in the nearby city and their herb supply running low, so Feral grabs a basket and heads to the forest. Even the wildlife here is softer than Dathomir, and there are few predators. Yet, halfway through, Feral senses something. There’s an itch in the back of his mind: a warning.

Feral straightens and glances around, concerned. There’s an odd shiver in the air. A faint whiff of Darkness.

“Maul?” Feral asks, and something slams into his side. Instinct has him rolling with the force, and he narrowly keeps his feet under him. He falls into a defensive stance and raises his hands in time to stop a blow aimed at his head.

He’s right. It’s Maul.

Maul still looks half-starved, though he’s filled out slightly since his arrival. He’s all muscle and metal, and he’s strong. He hits hard and fast, and within moments Feral realizes he’s going to lose.

Maul is stronger than him. Much stronger. Feral tries, but his legs are soon knocked out from under him. He hits the ground hard, and Maul follows him down.

A half-dozen limbs pin him down, and Feral can barely breath under the metal’s weight. He freezes as Maul wraps a hand around his neck, but Maul doesn’t squeeze. Doesn’t dig his claws in. He just stares down at Feral and holds him in place.

“Brother?” Feral asks carefully. He very deliberately doesn’t panic. If Maul wanted to hurt him, he could’ve already done so. Feral has already lost, so his words are his only defense left.

Maul’s hand tightens against his throat before releasing suddenly, and Maul starts to laugh.

“Brother,” he repeats, giving a strange twist to the word, like he’s not quite sure how to pronounce it. “Little stranger claiming kin, claiming _blood_ and playacting at mercy. Lies and delusions and weakness. No more, no. _No_. Little mouse running around with demands and promises, and what. Do you. _Want_.”

Maul’s claws are razor sharp, and Feral doesn’t dare flinch with them at his throat. He picks his words carefully, and he tells the truth.

“I want my brothers, and I want us to be free,” Feral says, and he feels the ache of it deep in his bones. He’s more free now than he’s ever been, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way.

Maul laughs again, though this time the sound is lower, almost guttural.

“Chains upon chains upon chains. Through victory my chains are broken, but there is no _victory_. Only pain and defeat…”

Maul keeps talking, but the words get faster, running together until they’re impossible to understand. He stops suddenly, and his eyes snap down to stare intently at Feral.

Maul tilts his head. Lifts his other hand and brushes it lightly against Feral’s skin. Tracing the marking that sweeps under his eye: one that he and Maul share.

Maul feels more curious than aggressive. His emotions are unstable with fury boiling beneath the surface, but for now it’s contained. So, Feral dares to try something.

One of Feral’s hands is pinned against the ground, but the other is only twisted beneath him. Feral shifts it free. Then, carefully, he reaches up to touch the base of Maul’s horns. Maul freezes. Feral slowly strokes along the bases, soothing the skin and bone like he would for Savage.

Maul stays where he is. His grip doesn’t loosen, but he leans into Feral’s hand. The edges of his Force presence soften even further.

“Brother,” Maul repeats. “Blood-kin. Oaths and offerings like the other one. Stranger in my den. Gone and replaced and _promises_ , so many promises.” Another laugh, almost a sob. “Weak. So _weak_. You’ll get yourself killed, little mouse.”

He sighs, and for a moment Feral can see a shrewd intelligence in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous. Maul slides his hand down until its spread over Feral’s chest. Even through his shirt, Maul’s hand feels almost feverishly warm, and the firm pressure is like a brand.

“Protection and loyalty,” Maul says. Then, “ _Mine_.”

Feral shouts as pain lights up his chest. When he looks down, there’s a neat row of claw marks over his right heart. It’s deep and bleeding, and Maul feels very smug above him.

“Mine,” he purrs again. There’s a fierce satisfaction in the way he places his hand above the new marks and bears his teeth in a smile. The touch stings, but Feral doesn’t complain. Not when this is the most progress he’s made since Maul arrived.

Being claimed as kin soothes something in the back of Feral’s mind; a part of him that’s half-instinct and longs for his Clan. He’ll wear this new scar with pride if it means bringing their oldest brother back to them.

The rest of him starts thinking about infection risk and getting back home. Savage will worry if Feral is gone when he returns. He’s not ready to walk away from Maul though, so he dares test his luck one more time. He smiles up at Maul.

“Let’s go home, brother. I’ll make us food.”

Maul doesn’t move or speak. Feral keeps his hand against Maul’s horns, still stroking them as he shifts out from underneath Maul.

Maul lets him stand, and he allows Feral to guide him back to their house. Feral keeps his hand against Maul’s skin—his horns, his shoulder, _somewhere_ —and he tries to project affection and comfort through the connection. Savage says Maul is like them, able to do and sense things, and he hopes Maul can feel his sincerity.

They reach the house. For the first time, Maul follows him inside.

* * *

By the time Savage comes back, Maul is lounging across several cushions. He’d pulled Feral down with him after they ate, and he stayed sprawled against Feral’s back, radiating satisfaction. His hand also found its way back around Feral’s neck, as if daring him to take advantage of his relaxation. Feral doesn’t mind; it wasn’t uncomfortable, and Maul obviously takes comfort from the implied threat.

Maul stiffens when Savage opens the door, and his hand tightens around Feral’s neck. Not even to hurt. Just for Feral to be very aware of Maul’s sharp claws.

In the doorway, Savage suddenly reeks of fear, but Feral doesn’t have time to comfort him. Not when he can feel Maul’s mind threatening to fracture into paranoia again. He keeps his mind calm and pushes the emotions towards Maul.

“That’s our other brother, Savage. He brought you here, remember? Back to us.”

Maul’s grip tightens again, enough to _hurt_ , before releasing entirely.

“Ours,” Maul repeats. “Strangers in my den and metal beasts, speaking promises and _secrets_.”

He stands with the same, fluid grace as always and approaches Savage. Savage’s fear quiets as he moves, and he waits patiently as Maul inspects him.

Maul puts his hand on Savage’s chest, and he digs his claws into the skin. Blood wells up immediately as Maul carves the same mark he gave Feral. Savage doesn’t flinch. Just watches as Maul finishes and leaves his hand against Savage’s bleeding chest.

He turns away and retakes his spot draped across Feral’s back. This time, Feral feels claws against his thigh, above a major blood vessel. Another spot where Maul could kill him in seconds.

Feral sighs and pats Maul’s hand before leaving it alone. Eventually he hopes to gain Maul’s trust, but that will take time. He's pushed enough for today.

Savage hesitantly approaches them, like he isn’t sure whether he should be celebrating or panicking over this new development.

“Hey,” Feral says, tugging Savage closer to inspect the claw marks on his chest. They’re identical to the ones Maul gave him earlier. Feral sighs and reaches for the disinfectant again.

Afterward, Savage tries to pull away, but Feral locks his grip and doesn’t let him go. He guides Savage back down to rest against him and Maul. Savage settles soon enough, and Feral smiles.

He still doesn’t know what happened to his brothers or why Savage is so different. For now, they’re safe and free. He can give Savage space to heal. Someday he’ll push for answers, but it can wait a little longer.


	3. Jedi

Obi-Wan Kenobi died on Utapau. He remembers the way the force rippled around him. How it screamed as the Darkness surged forward to consume everything. Then his men—good men, ones he trusted with his life, _Cody_ —shot him down. There’d been something wrong with them. Something missing and screaming in the Force, and no time to fix it. Just falling, drowning, _dying_ and abandoning his men to their fates.

He woke in the Temple afterward. Back in the early days of the war, when the Jedi and Clone Troopers were still finding their footing with each other. The Darkness was just a disconcerting shadow instead of the all-consuming miasma it’d become by the end.

He’d quite terrified Anakin when he first woke up. At first, he’d been convinced this was some Sith trap or hallucination. He’d toyed with the idea of being insane as well, but he likes to think he’s since settled into this new reality. Everyone around him believes he's been struck by an intense Force vision. It doesn't quite ring true--the memories are too vivid, too _real_ \--but he's willing to concede to their expertise.

Everything in him aches at the thought of repeating the war. It had seemed like victory was finally within reach, but clearly that had been a lie. His men had been at the root of that terrible change and, despite all his foresight, Obi-Wan doesn't know how it'd all gone wrong

He has years to figure it out. If there is any chance that he can stop that horrible future, he has to try.

* * *

This early in the war, they still have lengthy breaks between campaigns. The first time, Obi-Wan had spent most of that time desperately studying strategies of galactic warfare and trying to become worthy of his new position. Now Obi-Wan has more experience than he'd ever wanted. He leaves Cody in charge and follows the Force to a small, Neutral planet.

After four years of war, Obi-Wan has come to appreciate the joy of a bustling marketplace. The planet is preparing for an upcoming harvest festival, and Obi-Wan has to wave off several offers of flowers. Eventually he accepts a small, vibrant blossom and tucks it behind his ear, to the delight of the locals.

As things stand, the war is contained to a handful of planets. It doesn’t inspire the same terror as Obi-Wan remembers. There's no undercurrents of fear and grief. No need to worry about a surprise attack. This is a peaceful place, and he basks in the uncomplicated joy of the children running freely between the stalls. No matter how long he lives, Obi-Wan will never take these moments for granted again.

Next to him, Anakin doesn’t share his enthusiasm. He wrinkles his nose at the crowds, clearly unimpressed. 

“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” Anakin asks.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you don’t trust me,” Obi-Wan says, smiling back.

Anakin had changed over the course of the war. They all had, but Obi-Wan hadn’t appreciated how much until he was confronted with this younger Anakin. One who is still getting used to his position as a Knight and a General. Who hasn’t lost his Padawan and his trust in the Council. His former Padawan had always been prone to intense emotions, but he feels so much lighter now without so much tragedy and loss pulling him down.

Obi-Wan had sworn they'd both have time to heal and reconnect after the war. He'd recognized how they'd drifted apart, but Obi-Wan hadn’t realized quite how much it'd changed over the years. Not until he woke up with so much of it undone. Anakin still brings him tea if he works for too long and eats meals with him, and when had they lost those quiet moments?

The realizations still troubles him, but now is not the time.

Obi-Wan lets his feet guide him where they will. The Force has called him here, and he knows without a doubt that he is exactly where he needs to be. They reach the edge of the marketplace, near the shipyards. The people here are a mix of locals and travelers, and Obi-Wan glances over them, unsure what he’s looking for. He doesn’t need to wait long before someone catches his attention.

Ah.

A Nightbrother.

The coloring and markings are unmistakable, though it’s exceedingly rare to see one off Dathomir. He’s sitting at the edge of the market with a basket in hand. Flowers are braided around his horns in the local style, and he seems completely at ease in the market. Obi-Wan walks towards him, and the Force whispers its approval. This is why he’s here.

“Anakin, do you mind waiting here? I don’t sense any danger, and I’d rather not overwhelm the man.”

Anakin grumbles, of course, but he stands guard against a nearby stall without much argument. Yet another change; this Anakin still trusts his judgment.

Obi-Wan inspects the Nightbrother as he approaches, but he doesn’t recognize the man. It’s not surprising. Even in his previous life, he’d only met a handful of the group.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” Obi-Wan asks.

The Nightbrother glances up and sets down the basket he’d been holding. “Sure. Can I help you with something?”

Obi-Wan smiles and joins him on the bench.

“I certainly believe so, though I’m afraid I’m not quite sure how yet.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master. The Force has guided my steps here, and I believe important events hinge on our meeting. I’m sure the specifics shall reveal itself in good time.”

He can feel the skepticism radiating from the Nightbrother, so he supposed it’s time for a demonstration. Lifting his hand, he focuses on several stones, and he neatly lifts them into the air. The Nightbrother gasps, and Obi-Wan smiles as he sends the objects spinning into various patterns.

He’s caught off guard when one of the stones nudges its way free from his control and flies into the Nightbrother’s hand. Obi-Wan stares at him, and he ducks his head, embarrassed.

“You’re Force Sensitive,” Obi-Wan realizes.

“My brother’s been teaching me, but I’m not very good yet. My name’s Feral, by the way,” he says, rolling the stone in his hand. “You said the Force brought you here. It can do that? Tell you things or guide you places?”

Feral looks at him with such hope that Obi-Wan knows this is an important question. There’s something else going on here, maybe even the reason the Force called him here. He picks his words carefully.

“Sometimes. It’s normally quite subtle though; a nudge in a certain direction or an impression of events,” Obi-Wan says. Feral looks disappointed so, on a hunch, he keeps talking. “On rare occasions, the Force can be more involved, with visions and other such guidance.”

Or memories of a life unlived, Obi-Wan doesn’t say. Even among other Jedi, such a concept is met with polite disbelief. Feral already seems uneasy about something, and his Force presence wavers with indecision as he watches Obi-Wan lower the stonesback to the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Feral straightens and meets Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Something happened to my brother several months ago. He woke up one night, and he was just… different. He can do new things and knows things he shouldn’t, and he won’t talk to me about _anything_.”

Strange. Quite strange, which means it is almost certainly important.

“You say your brother is Force Sensitive?”

Feral nods. “It’s different though. On Dathomir, we’re not supposed to use it. It’s bad luck, and the Nightsisters don’t like it. But now my brother does things I didn’t know were possible. He acts different too, and it _hurts_ him.”

Obi-Wan nods along, and he wonders.

“It certainly could be the Force, though I’m afraid I haven’t heard of it acting in quite that manner. I can’t say either way without at least meeting your brother, and even then I’m not sure I’ll have an answer for you.”

“I’d appreciate anything you can tell me.” He glances to the side and smiles slightly. “My brother stepped out earlier, but he’s coming back.”

Feral stands, and he turns toward the crowd behind him. Distantly, Obi-Wan can see another Nightbrother moving closer.

“Savage!” Feral calls, and Obi-Wan’s blood runs cold.

At first, he doesn’t recognize the man. He’s far smaller than the Sith Obi-Wan once knew, and he’s dressed in simple clothing. Most importantly, his Force presence lacks that cloying Darkness that once surrounded him. It’s most certainly him, though. Obi-Wan could never forget those markings.

They lock eyes. Savage drops the bag he was holding.

“Feral, get away from him!” Savage shouts, and then several things happen very quickly.

Feral leaps away from him, confused and afraid. Obi-Wan stands, automatically reaching for his lightsaber. Savage already has his hand raised, and he throws the Force at him like a battering ram. Obi-Wan is thrown backwards, and he collides with one of the market stalls in a shower of wood and fabric.

Anakin is at his side immediately, helping him back to his feet. The entire street is in disarray with toppled stalls and groaning people. Nobody looks injured but, in the confusion, Feral and Savage have vanished.

“Who the hell was that?” Anakin shouts, scanning the crowd.

“I believe that was Savage Opress,” Obi-Wan says, still struggling to reconcile his memory with the man he just saw. “In another life, he was a Sith Apprentice. More importantly, I’m quite sure he recognized me. Strange, considering we have haven’t met yet.”

Feral had been talking about sudden changes. New knowledge and skills. Judging by Obi-Wan’s memory, Savage should’ve still been in his village on Dathomir.

The Force had guided him here for a reason. Obi-Wan had a sinking feeling about what that reason entails.


End file.
